G E N E R A L G
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S C R E A M I N G
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S O L D H I S
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T H E P E N T
A G O N : : : :
W / M U T E '~ S
P R I M A R Y
G R I P O N
A R M I T A G
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C O N S T R U
C T O F G
I R L I N G :
W / M U T E
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H E '~ S
C R A C K
I N G : : : :
W A T C H
Y O U R
A S S : : : :
: : D I X I E
`Well,' she said, pausing, taking all of her weight on her right leg, `guess you got problems too.' She looked down. There was a faint circle of light, no larger than the brass round of the Chubb key that dangled between her breasts. She looked up. Nothing at all. She tongued her amps and the tube rose into vanishing perspective, the Braun picking its way up the rungs. `Nobody told me about this part,' she said.
Case jacked out.
`Maelcum...'
`Mon, you bossman gone ver'~ strange.' The Zionite was wearing a blue Sanyo vacuum suit twenty years older than the one Case had rented in Freeside, its helmet under his arm and his dreadlocks bagged in a net cap crocheted from purple cotton yarn. His eyes were slitted with ganja and tension. `Keep callin'~ down here wi'~ orders,mon, but be some Babylon war...' Maelcum shook his head. `Aerol an'~ I talkin'~, an'~ Aerol talkin'~ wi'~ Zion, Founders seh cut an'~ run.' He ran the back of a large brown hand across his mouth.
`Armitage?' Case winced as the betaphenethylamine hangover hit him with its full intensity, unscreened by the matrix or simstim. Brain's got no nerves in it, he told himself, it can't really feel this bad. `What do you mean, man? He's giving you orders? What?'
`Mon, Armitage, he tellin'~ me set course for Finland, ya know? He tellin'~ me there be hope, ya know? Come on my screen wi'~ his shirt all blood, mon, an'~ be crazy as some dog, talkin'~ screamin'~ fists an'~ Russian an'~ th'~ blood of th'~ betrayers shall be on our hands.' He shook his head again, the dreadcap swaying and bobbing in zero-g, his lips narrowed. `Founders seh the Mute voice be false prophet surely, an'~ Aerol an'~ I mus'~ 'bandon Marcus Garveyand return.'
`Armitage, he was wounded? Blood?'
`Can't seh, ya know? But blood, an'~ stone crazy, Case.'
`Okay,' Case said `So what about me? You're going home. What about me, Maelcum?'
`Mon,' Maelcum said, `you comin'~ wi'~ me. I an'~ I come Zion wi'~ Aerol, Babylon Rocker.Leave Mr.~ Armitage t'~ talk wi'~ ghost cassette, one ghost t'~ 'nother...'
Case glanced over his shoulder: his rented suit swung against the hammock where he'd snapped it, swaying in the air current from the old Russian scrubber. He closed his eyes. He saw the sacs of toxin dissolving in his arteries. He saw Molly hauling herself up the endless steel rungs. He opened his eyes.
`I dunno, man,' he said, a strange taste in his mouth. He looked down at his desk, at his hands. `I don't know.' He looked back up. The brown face was calm now, intent. Maelcum's chin was hidden by the high helmet ring of his old blue suit. `She's inside,' he said. `Molly's inside. In Straylight, it's called. If there's any Babylon, man, that's it. We leave on her, she ain't comin'~ out, Steppin'~ Razor or not.'
Maelcum nodded, the dreadbag bobbing behind him like a captive balloon of crocheted cotton. `She you woman, Case?'
`I dunno. Nobody's woman, maybe.' He shrugged. And found his anger again, real as a shard of hot rock beneath his ribs. `Fuck this,' he said. `Fuck Armitage, fuck Wintermute, and fuck you. I'm stayin'~ right here.'
Maelcum's smile spread across his face like light breaking. `Maelcum a rude boy, Case. GarveyMaelcum boat.' His gloved hand slapped a panel and the bass-heavy rocksteady of Zion dub came pulsing from the tug's speakers. `Maelcum not runnin'~, no. I talk wi'~ Aerol, he certain t'~ see it in similar light.'
Case stared. `I don't understand you guys at all,' he said.
`Don'~ 'stan'~ you, mon,' the Zionite said, nodding to the beat, `but we mus'~ move by Jah love, each one.'
Case jacked in and flipped for the matrix.
`Get my wire?'
`Yeah.' He saw that the Chinese program had grown, delicate arches of shifting polychrome were nearing the T-A ice.
`Well, it's gettin'~ stickier,' the Flatline said. `Your boss wiped the bank on that other Hosaka, and damn near took ours with it. But your pal Wintermute put me on to somethin'~ there before it went black. The reason Straylight's not exactly hoppin'~ with Tessier-Ashpools is that they're mostly in cold sleep. There's a law firm in London keeps track of their powers of attorney. Has to know who's awake and exactly when. Armitage was routing the transmissions from London to Straylight through the Hosaka on the yacht. Incidently, they know the old man's dead.'
`Who knows?'
`The law firm and T-A. He had a medical remote planted in his sternum. Not that your girl's dart would've left a resurrection crew with much to work with. Shellfish toxin. But the only T-A awake in Straylight right now is Lady 3Jane Marie-France. There's a male, couple years older, in Australia on business. You ask me, I bet Wintermute found a way to cause that business to need this 8Jean's personal attention. But he's on his way home, or near as matters. The London lawyers give his Straylight ETA as 09:00:00, tonight. We slotted Kuang virus at 02:32:03. It's 04:45:20. Best estimate for Kuang penetration of the T-A core is 08:30:00. Or a hair on either side. I figure Wintermute's got somethin'~ goin'~ with this 3Jane, or else she's just as crazy as her old man was. But the boy up from Melbourne'll know the score. The Straylight security systems keep trying to go full alert, but Wintermute blocks 'em, don't ask me how. Couldn't override the basic gate program to get Molly in, though. Armitage had a record of all that on his Hosaka; Riviera must've talked 3Jane into doing it. She's been able to fiddle entrances and exits for years. Looks to me like one of T-A's main problems is that every family bigwig has riddled the banks with all kinds of private scams and exceptions. Kinda like your immune system falling apart on you. Ripe for virus. Looks good for us, once we're past that ice.'
`Okay. But Wintermute said that Arm --'
A white lozenge snapped into position, filled with a closeup of mad blue eyes. Case could only stare. Colonel Willie Corto, Special Forces, Strikeforce Screaming Fist, had found his way back. The image was dim, jerky, badly focused. Corto was using the Haniwa's navigation deck to link with the Hosaka in Marcus Garvey.
`Case, I need the damage reports on Omaha Thunder.'
`Say. I... Colonel?'
`Hang in there, boy. Remember your training.'
But where have you been, man?he silently asked the anguished eyes. Wintermute had built something called Armitage into a catatonic fortress named Corto. Had convinced Corto that Armitage was the real thing, and Armitage had walked, talked, schemed, bartered data for capital, fronted for Wintermute in that room in the Chiba Hilton... And now Armitage was gone, blown away by the winds of Corto's madness. But where had Corto been,those years?
Falling, burned and blinded, out of a Siberian sky.
`Case, this will be difficult for you to accept, I know that. You're an officer. The training. I understand. But, Case, as God is my witness, we have been betrayed.'
Tears started from the blue eyes.
`Colonel, ah, who? Who's betrayed us?'
`General Girling, Case. You may know him by a code name. You do know the man of whom I speak.'
`Yeah,' Case said, as the tears continued to flow, `I guess I do. Sir,' he added, on impulse. `But, sir, Colonel, what exactly should we do? Now, I mean.'
`Our duty at this point, Case, lies in flight. Escape. Evasion. We can make the Finnish border, nightfall tomorrow. Treetop flying on manual. Seat of the pants, boy. But that will only be the beginning.' The blue eyes slitted above tanned cheekbones slick with tears. `Only the beginning. Betrayal from above. From above...'He stepped back from the camera, dark stains on his torn twill shirt. Armitage's face had been masklike, impassive, but Corto's was the true schizoid mask, illness etched deep in involuntary muscle, distorting the expensive surgery.